


safe & sound

by Anonymous



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Aggressive Use of Commas, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Conversations, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Panic Attacks, Rating for Chapter 4, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:13:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: sometimes you cope alone so long you forget you don't have to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of wish fulfillment.  
> tw in end notes

Cassian doesn't realize how bad it is until his door creaks open. Normally he'd sit up in his bed to confirm his suspicions, but even his instinct to reach for the blaster under his bed seems to be too exhausted to do anything to defend his life. 

In all honesty, he just wants to melt into a puddle under his blankets. Let them swallow him up whole. It's uncomfortably hot under these sheets, which is what he'd intended.

Deserved.

People like him don't deserve comfort.

Cassian just wants to melt away into nothingness. Be done with existing. He's basically a waste of air anyways. Breathing is too much work these days, he sees no point in it but doesn't have the guts to end it. He's seen too many dead bodies to be flippant about ending his life. By god, he was alive for a reason - the Rebellion - but it didn't mean he had to like it. He might as well be a murder droid - they don't need food or water or living quarters or a conscience. Just a loaded blaster and the occasional memory wipe.

 _Stars,_  he could go for a memory wipe. But there was too much valuable information locked away in the recesses of his brain, and the only way to erase them all would take his abilities with it.

The Rebellion didn't need a sniper with an alcohol addiction. One that hated himself was already enough. Only masochistic dedication kept him from turning the muzzle of his blaster somewhere other than his target.  _Mission completion before all else._  He's already haunted by so many ghosts, dying before delivering a report to Draven would be a burden even a dead Cassian couldn't bear.

He'd rather have died on Scarif where the salty air and sense of fulfillment could wash away his sins but instead, here he is, roasting in his own bed as if his aging mattress is a bed of flaming coal. It's as if the universe is mocking him.

_Everyone you know will die and leave you behind. And you won't have the guts to join them._

"Hey, Cassian!" 

_Shavit._

It's Jyn. 

"...Cassian?" 

He doesn't want to reply. Let her think he's dead. Maybe they'll mistake him for a corpse and dispose of his body. That'd be a good way to go.  _A hero of Scarif, the Rebels' best spy, dead in his sleep of unknown causes._

Then he feels the mattress creak under her weight.

"Cass, you okay? Are you sick?"

The guilt slams into him like a brick wall. Jyn's worried about him and it shows in her voice. He knows if he looked, and he doesn't have the energy to look, her eyebrows would be pinched together and her mouth drawn down in her trademark frown.

He contemplates snapping at her. Barking at her to leave him alone, getting rid of any sympathy she had for him. Being rude enough that she'd never think to check in on him ever again. 

Then he can rot away without guilt.

Cassian can feel Jyn's hand undo his burrow of blankets, peeling layers away until the comparatively cool air of the room hits his face. Her hand is warm against his forehead, and Cassian opens his eyes to Jyn's concerned face.

"You don't have a fever. Are you sick? Do you need to go to medbay?"

To him, his sigh is long and mournful but it comes out as a small a puff of air.

"I'm fine." He tries to sound snappy but he just sounds tired. Jyn's frown loosens, her lips pressed tight in knowing concern.

"Are you sleepy? I haven't seen you around in a day - you gave Draven a report and went straight to bed. You missed breakfast." 

Cassian doesn't respond. His vision goes out of focus, slipping away from Jyn's gaze towards a splotch on the ceiling right above her head. No fixtures, only seamless lights flush against the ceiling tiles. He wonders if there's a reason why. 

He's vaguely aware of Jyn's hands carding through his hair.

"Cassian, look at me." 

He can't. 

He doesn't want to. 

He should've died on Scarif. He aches for the few moments of bliss he'd been granted on that sandy beach, relief from the burden he'd been carrying since he was six years old. But then he'd wished to have gotten the time to know Jyn.

And the universe had granted it. He should be thankful for her sitting his his bed with her hands in his hair, but all he feels is guilt gnawing at him from the inside.

He'd just forgotten about his crippling self loathing.

She deserves better.

He can't look at her. He knows if he does he'll be able to read her face as easily as an unlocked datapad. He'll be face to face with the concern and hint of fear in her bright green eyes.

Cassian also knows she can read him just as well. If he looks at her, she'll be able to look into his eyes and learn exactly what he'd been thinking. He'll be able to see her disappointment in him, her disgust at his fear of living and his fear of dying.

She'll see him for the useless waste of resources that he is.

 _Cassian karking Andor,_ Draven's pet project gone to waste. 

And it would break her heart.

_Kriffing Jyn Erso._

Maybe if she'd left after Yavin, things could've gone back to normal.

Cassian can barely remember what normal was. 

Up until Scarif he'd distracted himself from his thoughts by giving himself no downtime to even think He took mission after mission and spent any spare time he had chatting with Kay.

Kay, the observant analyst that he is, had eventually noticed Cassian's poor coping strategies. Despite Cassian's best efforts at convincing him otherwise, Kay had kept an eye on him.

Now Kay's gone, and so is his reality check. 

"Cassian. Have. You. Taken. Your. Meds?" 

It's probably the tenth time she's asked him in the past five minutes - or five hours, god knows how long he'd been thinking - but only now does he understand what she's saying.

It startles him into looking at her. She's leaning over him now, hands cupping his face, visibly relaxing at his response.

_She knows._

_Shavit._

She knows.

How did she know? Nobody knew. Maybe Draven - but that's it. Cassian, maybe Draven, Kay - and the latter is dead. 

Maybe she'd sliced into his medical files. But that didn't make any sense. His files weren't even under his real name, or an alias of his that Jyn knew of, for that matter. It wouldn't do the Rebellion any good if everyone knew his weaknesses. Only his handler and his droid were privy to those.

Even Kay hadn't known until he'd gotten suspicious after Jenoport. 

Perhaps Jyn had peeked at his file while he was recovering after Scarif.

It had to be, it was the only way.

Cassian frowns. The lax security of the med bay doesn't matter now, though.

What matters is she knows, she knows and she's still  _here,_ gripping his face as if he's just a child waking up from a nightmare. Her thumbs are tracing the hard lines of his face, starting at his temple and inching down his jawline. 

"Jyn," he croaks, unsure of what he's going to say next.

"Don't. Don't tell me to leave."

"You can't see me like this." 

"You've seen me worse. You've helped me out of worse." 

For some terrible reason the first memory that pops into Cassian's head was the long hours Jyn spent in the 'fresher on the return flight after a mission. Both of them had somehow convinced themselves that the cruel hand of fate had bypassed  _both_ their outdated birth control shots. Cassian was terrified but Jyn - Jyn had been in the worst mental shape he'd ever seen. She'd been swinging between hysterical fright and all-encompassing guilt. So he'd swallowed back his own doubts and spent two whole days convincing her everything would be okay and that the Rebellion had resources and if they'd didn't he'd figure out a way and she wouldn't ever have to do anything on her own and by god if the universe was that cruel he'd find a job with the farking Empire and pay for everything himself. 

It eventually turned out that quekka fish just didn't sit well with her and evoked a reaction often confused with morning sickness. Still, he'd never be able to forget the look of sheer horror on her face.

"You don't have to repay me. I - I never expected anything from you. I just did it."

That statement, Cassian realizes, seems to have hurt Jyn more than if he'd snapped at her. And he hadn't even meant to hurt her.

Stars, he really is the worst.

"I never - I wasn't thinking of it that way. I didn't realize you thought I would." Her eyes drop away from his face but her hands are still firmly looped around the back of his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, desperate to make things right. Now he really can't die, not with her looking this dejected. He frees his hands from the covers, squeezing Jyn's arms. "I'm sorry."

"Cassian, the only thing you have to be sorry for is  _not taking care of yourself._ " Her eyes are back on his face and the concern has slipped away behind the mask of determination he recognizes from so many missions. 

"I'm sorry, Jyn."

She stares at him. Stars, her eyes can get so fiercely icy when the need arises. 

"If you really want me to forgive you, take your meds."

"Okay," he relents. 

"Good. Do you need me to help you?"

"I can do it."

"I'm going to stay here until you do." 

She shuffles away from him, far enough that she can pull him up into a sitting position. Lethargy still clings to his every bone but with Jyn's stern eyes on him he can't help but go through the motions of digging through his nightstand, finding the injection, and administering it.

When he's done, he turns to look at her for approval. A small smile flickers at the corner of her mouth.

"Good," she says softly. "Now do you want me to grab you lunch?"

He shakes his head. "I should... go and do that." Jyn nods.

"Whatever you want. I'll see you in the mess, then?"

Jyn moves to get off the bed and Cassian is suddenly terrified of her absence. Meds are one thing, but willpower is another and he's not quite sure if it's back yet. The blaster under his bed sounds all the more tempting and now he has the energy to lift it. He could let her leave, now, but all of a sudden he thinks about how upset she'd be if he'd tried something.

He could live to be useful to the Rebellion, he could live because Jyn wants him to, he could live because his parents died for him to... or he could live for a chance at real freedom. He's not quite sure which one, if not all of them, that intrigues him the most. But right now, Jyn's slipping her boots back on and he's not quite sure if he can do this alone anymore - at least for now. 

"Wait-" he chokes out. "Stay. For a little bit? If you're not busy - if you want to?"

"Of course." 

He settles back into his bed, suddenly sick of lying around all day, and Jyn sits down beside him. He's openly staring at her, memorizing the already familiar colors of her iris. She gives him a thin smile and he's tempted to trace it, raising a thumb to do so.

She raises a hand to catch his, grinning at the disappointment on his face. Then she leans in to wipe the frown off his lips with hers. He sinks into it at first, letting her lead for a while before wrestling control away for himself. Jyn bit at his resolve though, so he contented himself with letting his hands wander up under the back of her shirt as she pins him to the bed between her knees.

Then a cold realization cuts through his gut and he suddenly jerks away. 

"Let's not," he gasps.

Jyn leans back, concern once again finding a home on her face. "You didn't want it? I should've asked-"

"No, I do, but... it doesn't...."

"Feel right?"

"You're pitying me."

"I'm not, I promise." Jyn sighs. "I thought we were done with this."

"I thought so too... I just..." Cassian frowns. "I don't want to associate...." he gestures to the small space between them, " _us..._ with...  _it._ " 

Jyn twists her mouth. "That's true, I didn't think of that." She gives him a sad smile.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you're right. I don't want everything to get all mixed up." 

"Okay."

Jyn reaches out for his hand. "I'm not mad at you, I swear. I'm just frustrated like you are. We'll get through it, I promise."

"You shouldn't have to deal with this."

"But guess what? I want to help. And also guess what? You've helped me through the exact same thing. So neither of us are better than each other, okay?"

Cassian nods. "I'll do my best, honestly."

"That's all I ever want from you."

"And I from you." 

"Of course."

He feels less guilty after that, but Cassian still feels empty just sitting on the bed waiting for his appetite to come back. He shoots a sideways glance at Jyn who chuckles at his forlorn expression.

"You're a dork." 

"You're not much better," he deadpans, then his smile betrays him.

"I'm bad but you're the worst," she sighs, and leans on his shoulder. Cassian turns and tucks her head under his chin and Jyn snuggles closer. He sighs, breath ruffling her hair, and wraps his arms around her torso. When he presses his cheek against hers he can feel her smile.

Another doubt flutters in the base of his stomach.

"Jyn, are we codependent or is this actually healthy?" 

He can feel her shift in his arms and he loosens his grip in case she wants to leave. Instead she pulls them back, covering his hands with hers.

"I wouldn't know. I mean, it seems wrong to not help each other, you know?"

"Yeah, but there's a line that gets crossed but I don't know where that is. Where you realize you're putting more energy into a person than they are."

"I don't either."

"Would you leave me if I tried something stupid?"

Jyn hums, absentmindedly stroking his arm. "Depends. If it's a fixable stupid I'd talk you out of it. If it's really stupid I'd tell you to kriff off and put yourself back together."

"If I didn't listen?"

"I'd make you - Cassian, would you leave me?"

"Never."

"What if I was like, being really terrible to you?"

"I'd tell you to kriff off and put yourself back together."

Cassian grins when Jyn laughs. When it fades away she adds:

"In all honestly unless you were like, actively trying to abuse my compassion with that Intelligence brain of yours, which you aren't, I'll always be here for help. But if you did, don't expect me not to give you a black eye - or at least, tell you off."

"That's fair. I'd do the same."

"Good. That's only fair." 

"Good."

She settles back into his arms and sighs contentedly. Cassian smiles and presses his lips to the top of her head. At that moment, Jyn's stomach growls and her face turns a bright red. 

"Let's go get lunch," Cassian announces, lifting Jyn off the bed.

"Loser volunteers to teach the next self defense session to the new kids," Jyn exclaims before running out the door. 

Cassian groans and follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw suicide, suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> Friendly reminder from your local anon that romance doesnt magically cure depression. do space mom proud and take your meds, text a buddy, and call for help.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've seen me worse. You've helped me out of worse."

 

Cassian has always slept lightly. One can assume it's an acquired habit, for what is more dangerous for a liar than an unguarded back and an exposed throat?

But it's not the case.

In the dimly lit recesses of his mind, Cassian knows he's always woken easily. To the sounds of his mother's footsteps early in the morning; to the moonlight filtering through his window late at night; to the crunch of snow under boots outside. The childhood annoyance became a treasured asset, and it is that asset that informs him of Jyn's presence. 

His door is always figuratively open to her, as are his arms. The feeling is mutual, irrefutably understood and never verbalized. 

The door that is locked to all is now locked to all-but-Jyn. He could give her the passcode but they've adopted a game of tooka-and-mouse to hone their slicing skills. Cassian builds the wall and Jyn takes them down. The first one took Jyn mere moments to crack, the most recent one a couple hours. 

He hasn't changed it since then.

She slips in with practiced ease. The shuffle of her feet as she toes off her boots is as familiar to him as his own fake-sleep breathing; the creak of the mattress as she settles in beside him even more so. Her scent, dimmed slightly by a sonic and the remaining residues of a messy mission, wafts to his nose. 

Cassian's hands itch to hold her, find home around her ribs, but he is asleep.

More importantly, she needs to sleep. The fleeting darkness almost reaches their eyes, and it takes all of his strength to wrangle himself free of its grip when he hears it:

sobs.

Eyes snap open to confirm the ears' disbelief. Ragged breaths with sharp edges; the shake of shoulders that muffle gasps. He knows the signs of stifled crying all too well.

Cassian's eyes adjust to the dark, the greyness of the ceiling focusing into outlined panels. Should he let her cry it out? Or should he console her and potentially induce embarrassment for the two of them?

He ponders it for just a moment but the next breath is too strained and falls on his ears like a cry for help.

"Jyn?"

Silence ensues. There's enough movement that he knows Jyn is wiping her eyes, preparing for the inevitable flicking on of a light switch. But there's no fooling a spy, there's no fooling Cassian when it comes to Jyn (and there's no fooling Jyn when it comes to Cassian), so she relents, and seeks out the comfort she so desperately needs.

The accursed mattress groans loudly when she rolls to face him in the darkness, and Cassian curses the bed under his breath for taking so many of her tears without telling him. She rolls straight into her arms, finding home against the beat of his heart.

"You don't have to be quiet," he murmurs into her hair. "Nobody will hear you - and I don't mind."

He feels her lips pressed hard into a line; another gasp for air, and then: "I-I don't - I don't... I don't know... how. I-I never did." 

"Cry however you must," Cassian says despite the ache that threatens to split his heart in two. "I'm here."

So she does.

* * *

She should be ashamed.

She should be ashamed because Cassian sleeps poorly as it is, and now she's crept into his bed like an intruder and made a distraction, a mess, out of herself. She's gotten his pillow wet, his sheets wet; she's even gotten his karking shirt wet with her farking crying.

She's a thief. That's who she really is, always has been always will be. Any other label is delusional. The word  _hero_  chokes the air out of her.  _Sarge_ , she thinks with sheer self-deprecatory delight. Her hands are fists, balls of fabric of Cassian's shirt, it's the soft brown one that she loves to steal in mornings  _after._ She'd pound those fists and scream, oh  _Force_  she wants to wail like a bereaved mother, but she has some dignity, some self control, some of Saw's blood - well, not really, but when she thinks  _father_  his image always comes first -  still left in her.

 _Saw._  She's a thief, stealing poor Cassian's well-earned rest,  _stealing her parents' lives,_  stealing so many lives, taking them all for herself in the name of something greater. Poor, poor Cassian who's done so much more, so much worse; how had she ever doubted him and saw him as anything else.

She is a thief, and those glares gifted to her on Wobani are the only thing she's ever deserved, those and the scars left by shackles and the bitter timidness wrought by watching for bloodthirsty keepers. How she got out of there in one piece, mind and body and soul, astounds her to this day.

(Chirrut would've said the Force needed something from her, and if all it needed was Scarif, then it felt right for the void inside to be filled with salty water. Tears, tears, tears that leak out of her and maybe in the end she will be empty and at peace.)

That is what she deserves, not the strong, warm arms around her -  _Force,_  he holds her so tightly. As if she's breaking into a million pieces (she is, like her sibling the Death Star), slipping away into the darkness, into nothingness, and the only thing keeping her together, here, on this bed, in his life, are Cassian's arms.

(It's true. Without him gripping her so tightly she'd sink into the mattress and nonexistence. He's still hesitant, holding back  _just a little,_  wanting to let her breathe but she pulls him in tighter and tighter and  _tighter ,_ until the kyber screams into his belly, until he finally understands.  _This is no time for chivalry, light of mine, you let go and I'm gone forever.)_

She's lost track of her thoughts.

A good thing, really, because her red-hot musings were about to be razor-thin blades, and she had to scramble away from them as fast as she could just to make it into the safety of Cassian's quarters. Her life, her existence, could've ended in the public sonics, but something about the shame of a body in the open and being an inconvenience to some poor kid on cleaning duty rankled at her. 

(Oh, no, no, she wouldn't turn the blades, or her blaster, or her hands, or Force knows however else organics do this, on herself.  Her hands that kill so easily tremble at the notion. No, no, it was the guilt and the sorrow and all the things she doesn't have a name for, doesn't really know what they are or where they came from and why they'd attacked so suddenly and so viciously, but it was those little demons, her own thoughts, that threatened to plunder the air from her lungs.

The only thought that kept her alive, kept her moving, pushed her out of the sonic and into her clothing was  _Cassian, Cassian, Cassian needs to know, he has to know, it's not fair to him, I have to do at least one thing right,_  for someone, anyone, and if anyone, anyone deserves something right from her it's him.) 

Wretched, wretched, wretched girl. Poor Jyn, Poor Cassian; poor boy who clutches onto her like a lifeline, as if she was the beacon of hope and he the darkness. Neither of them were ever the darkness or the light, they are just mirrors, and the smallest sliver, glint, spark, of hope is reflected in the other; warmth grows between them, and they burn as light.

No, no, this is not Scarif where he held onto her out of sorrow.

No, he holds her out of love, and - 

"I don't - I don't - I don't deserve-" she chokes out. 

"Let's not. You say you don't deserve me, I say that about you, we're two messes, alright? Which is why this works. We work, we work together, I trust - mierda, Jyn, do you need water? - you don't want me to leave? alright - you trust me with this and I trust you to, to-" he presses his face into her shoulder, "I trust you to know-" 

"I thank you," she mumbles, hoarse. Karking hells, did he think she didn't appreciate him? That's probably it. She's not doing enough, it's not his fault, he can read the most subtle of movements and read between heartbeats, if he couldn't tell then it's her, Jyn, doing something wrong, because she always does something wrong and that's why Mama chose Papa over her, why Papa died in her arms, why Saw left her, why they all left her, and Cassian will leave her-

"Jyn, no, I won't, I won't ever leave you behind, never, never willingly, and I will fight tooth and nail to find you every time, to come home to you, and Jyn, Jyn, I know you know why they all left you and you know it's not your fault and they did it  _for_  you, Jyn, Jyn, please-" 

She knows. She knows they all left out of love and nobody who knows knows whether it was the right choice, she's debated this in front of a blank cell wall and to Cassian's concerned face, she knows - 

Stars, she's still crying. Is this a lifetimes' worth of tears flowing through her? Are her eyes shedding blood now? They must, there's no way there's this much in her. Her fingers dig in, grasp at Cassian's back, holding on to sanity.

She shudders, once, twice, a whine building in the back of her throat. She's no longer soundless but the tears aren't heavy anymore, just drops of soft sadness and a need for comfort. Cassian murmurs something but she doesn't have it in her to listen, only curls up against his gentle voice. Jyn wishes she could just burrow against Cassian and live there forever, with no responsibilities or needs or -

her nose is red, stuffed, running; she can't breathe, she needs air, she  _can't breathe._

She doesn't want this to end. 

Cassian pulls away just far enough for her to gasp clean air, and the freshness of it on her face renders all her impurities in painstaking detail. Her face is probably swollen and an ugly red; her nose is running, her eyes feel raw and heavy, her cheeks are sticky and salty and she feels like she's ran from a battalion of troopers -

she should be ashamed.

Suddenly, she is not.

Cassian is looking at her... she doesn't have a word to describe it. Adoration. Shimmering in his eyes. A deep frown that quirks into his <reassuring smile>, followed by the <fark it, Jyn knows> thin lipped concern.

But  _adoration._

Even after all this.

For the first time she can remember, she breathes freely. Even when he's kissed her, even after they've bedded each other and emptied away their want, there's a bit of numbness that always nags at her. Living just numbs the pain.

But this? This relieves it. Tears to shed and a chest to cry on. Arms to hold, to stroke her hair as he does it now.

She could almost smile, but her lips refuse to budge. Well, then.

She'd lean back into him but his shirt is  _soaked,_  and when she meets his eyes he sits up and pulls it off.

"Better?"

Jyn nods and they settle back together. She wants him (he wants her too), she always does, (they) always will, and she's accepted it (so has he), but not tonight. Maybe tomorrow, or if they have time in the morning. Though her blood always sings a tad more sweetly around him, and the reminder only strengthens it, right now, in this moment, this is not what she wants from him.

Skin is warm on skin, and his warmth was muddled by the shirt. Her cheek finds its place over his heart. His heart, thudding so heavily, so evenly, the odd skipping of sorrow she recognizes from times of ecstasy. He shivers and she pulls the covers around him, and in the cocoon of warmth her senses are only one: sound.

His heart beat and, her name, _her name,_ tumbling from his lips, like a prayer, a chant, like  _the force is with me I am one with the force,_ except it's  _her name_  and how long has he been saying it?

Like this?

Not a warning shout, not a cry of want, not a cheerful greeting or even just a soft statement, but like  _this._

Sound meets feeling, his hands drawing circles on her back, breath curling warm against her, the kyber poking between them as it always does, the blanket warm and safe.

She sighs and it sounds so shaky and odd and unfamiliar. A sigh of relief.  _Finally._

She murmurs his name, just once, just twice, just a  _thank you_ and  _I love you_  and a prayer all wrapped up together - his stubble brushes her forehead, and like that, they sleep soundly, only to be woken by the chirp of the chrono at 0600. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who's read, kudosed, and commented. (I do receive all your comments!  
> I wish you all the best.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Poor boy who clutches onto her like a lifeline."

This is how it should be.

Green, Cassian thinks, is a lively colour. It can be sickening too, a harbinger of death - the rancid pallor of a star-sick passenger, the tint of the skies above Fest's factories, the rays of the Death Star, a shroud of camo hiding a body, the shadows cupping Draven's stony expression in the War Room. But here, now, with her, with  _her,_ he cannot think of green as anything but beautiful. Brilliant, like chlorophyll-filled leaves, chromium-filled gemstones, lakes brimming with life, the hand print of the universe on a thousand planets.

Brown, too. He's come to love it, now, because it's what meets green, nourishes it, envelopes it. Leaves and bark; grass and soil, the home of jewels, the sandy protector of water. Before it was guilt-ridden, bitter like caf, staining like jet fuel on his jacket. He hated his face in the mirror, hated it, hated it. Hated those eyes that saw everything, unblinkingly, carried his baggage for all to see, to brand him a thousand dirty names with one accusatory, broken, glare. Eyes that refused to shed tears for they'd been spent long, long ago.

Brown is what draws green to him. Jyn's eyes always find his,  _his,_ and for that he should be, he is, thankful. Thank the stars, the Force, the universe. 

This is what he thinks.

They are alone, safe. A wall at Cassian's back, Jyn's toes meeting his. Mud on his boots, the cuffs of her pants. A streak on her face, arcing from her forehead down her cheek that she allows him, wants him, to trace with reverent fingers. Close enough he can see glints of light in her hair, close enough her breath is warm against his cheek. 

He drops his hand, too afraid to touch further, sees the clouds over her gaze as he draws away. A mistake, so he nods, and she brightens, pressing closer. 

Close enough, closer, closer, her hands are on his sides, closer, leaning in - 

his heart roars to life.

She asks him something. Permission, he thinks, a soft verbal check just in case. Green waves caress, tease, brown shores. She's so close.

He wants her closer, want lingering on need, almost, but the need for air in his lungs is even greater. 

She's close, close enough, too close, too far, he wants their souls to entwine and become one, heart over heart, spirit draped over spirit like borrowed clothing. Share the same lungs, exchange names, bring electric feeling back into weary and rusted nerves. Gentle, slow, maybe so or maybe not, heavy, wanting, probably not, but either way, any way, in all ways, put an end to the longing for once and for all, trade his self for hers, even for a just night but for longer, maybe, hopefully forever, because he won't be able to undo himself from her again.

Cassian sees it in her eyes, too, and it only stokes the flames, makes the sweet song wafting in the air between them stronger.

Words and thoughts crash and fade away, spinning and only leaving him with one, sure thing:

He wants to breathe the same air as her  _but he can't breathe._

His. heart. pounds.

It's going too fast, like the broken engine of a water-speeder running on the last dregs of fuel. Rushing and rushing before it comes to an abrupt standstill, dead. That is his heart, pounding faster and faster, its muscles churning and twisting his blood into a nauseating storm. 

This is not first love, true love, final love, rushing through him, not excitement, not the lust, no, something twisted, evil, poisons the perfume of the moment. He has half a second to mourn before he falls.

This is what happens. 

Cassian's legs give out, body suddenly too hot for the clothes he's wearing. Skin crawling, wanting to leap into the cold void of space for relief. His lungs, he thinks, are trying to help hold his pounding heart in check. He shivers, realize they've twisted themselves around it to slow the runaway drumbeat, but that's left him breathless and he. can't. breathe.

He strains for air, a long wheeze through his teeth. Something holds his head up, clear, above the water - a button digs into his cheek and yes, it's Jyn, cupping his face, he can't see her, for some reason, he's too dizzy and everything is blue and grey and black and white and green, where is the green? 

The press of her palms squeezes the words he needs out of his brain.

_Panic. Attack._

It's no use of him to yet because he can't speak because all the muscles of his abdomen, torso, chest, everything, turn against him, seizing up. Locked like stone, like the kill configuration, they're trying to kill him, he can't die, there's so much left to do and god, Jyn is here, she's here  _she's trying to help, listen to her, find the green_ - 

He's consumed whole by the darkness and it spits him out like a quekka fish on stone slabs. One time, the first time, he'd seen the Imperial uniform laid out on his bunk. The greyish blueish greenish tone of Death. It was an officer that fired the blaster at his parents' heads, and his vision turns red, red, red, with her blood splatter. The dormant arms, ironed flat, had taken him by the throat, dragged him under a snowbank, and it was Kay, his partner, his fellow infiltrator, that had found him and dug him up. 

One time, the most recent, he thinks, after Tivik, in the U Wing, after the message. He'd grabbed the back of the empty copilots' seat, a terrible roar threatening to tear the sides of his throat. A heave, an ugly, terrible heave of disgust and sadness and exhaustion, the moment he realized that it was one death too many, the final straw, and that he should die soon so he'd never have to do it again because there was no way, no way, he could go against orders that would benefit the galaxy.

His heart hurts,  _hurts,_ like someone carved it out with a flaming vibroblade, is wrenching it out with venomous claws. Poor, poor, karking Jyn, he thinks she's crying based on the whimpers as she begs for him to come back. There's no one here to witness them after all, maybe he's crying too because his breaths are shaky and he still can't see, curse his blurred vision.

A single, red hot blasterbolt of a thought - he hopes she won't comm for a medic. No, no, she's too smart to, because if they find out, if Draven and Craken and Mothma if anyone finds out he can't serve any longer and some newbie will have to fit in his muddied boots and that. cannot. happen.

Finally, a breath of cold air fills his lungs, but it upsets his already worried stomach and he has to hold it all in not to throw up like a child. Like a child seeing his mother laid to rest. Like a child killing for the first time and the tenth. Like a child seeing the underworld for the first time, the chains and broken hopes and ribs and swollen bellies and flies. 

"Cassian," she sighs, pleas, holds him against her heart. "Listen. You're safe, I'm here, you're safe, I'm here."

There is a deep, mournful wail lodged somewhere in his chest and he can't get it out. Cassian finds some strength to grip Jyn's arms, she pulls him up on shaky legs, and he leans against her, catching his breath. Straining against fear, dread, panic. 

Oh, Jyn, all she'd wanted was to love him. She probably thinks it's her fault, for pressing too close, moving too fast, wanting too much. The exhaustion barrels down on him like a thunderstorm, and he sways dangerously like a speeder caught in its midst. She's going to leave him, as she should, because he can't, can't give her want she wants, he can't even get what  _he_ wants - what she'll so willingly give him. She's not obligated to share this burden with him.

He can't hurt her like this, he can't remember his assailants every time she embraces him. Can't freak out because, yes, he'll leave her behind and be unable to fight his way back to her, that she'll hate him, too, like everyone else. Leave like everyone else who left her, leave like he's left everyone else. He wants to stay, he wants to fight for this but he's so, kriffing, tired. 

Cassian Andor, Draven's pet project, is claustrophobic. No - that makes no sense. He's touchy and feely and can share an elevator with a girl he hardly knows, presses up to schmooze with the sources of the Rebellions credits, it's not the closeness, it's something else - maybe they were going too fast and he'd tripped and fell and tumbled down a hill of despair.

He's not sure what it was. She was holding him, leaned in, and he'd panicked.

She hasn't left, though. She's still holding him, close, a sweet kindness no longer charged with desire. She's calm, too. Not crying, not accusatory, but... understanding.

Of course, dear Jyn understands. He'd seen her fall apart in front of her father's flickering form. 

"Panic attack," he mumbles, absolutely and utterly exhausted. "Not your fault."

"Not your fault either." Her lips brush against the top of his head, soft, so soft, like his mother's, like his father's fingertips.

There's a wail, gentle and quiet, that passes through his lips. A sob, a sigh of relief. He coughs, hard, gets the last of the musty weirdness out of his system, presses his hands over his eyes. Scrubs his face, surprisingly dry. He hadn't cried, then. Teetered on the edge of it, but he'd held it all in. Cassian hadn't gotten sick, hadn't screamed, hadn't fainted. He kept it all in. 

"There's no shame, love," she says quietly. "If you had." 

"I know. Thank you." 

This is how it is, and that's okay.

He lifts his face, and brown meets green once again.

Then, they get what they want, finally, finally, for the first time since Scarif in the elevator. Cassian could almost chuckle at the thought: he breathes easier with her lungs than his own, broken ones. She bites his lip, tasting copper -  _that's for scaring me,_ she huffs, and he responds by pressing into the curve of her neck and nodding, his tentative touch rewarded by her laugh. 

 _I want,_ he says, _if you want, too, if you'll have me, scars and burdens and all, I want us to have this. At least this, one tether, a branch to hold on to so the storm doesn't sweep us away. Each other. And I want you, scars and burdens and all. In any way that you'll give me, in any way that you'll take me._

"Yes," she replies, "but no giving and taking. No  _to_ or  _from_ each other, we _share_ everything. Ourselves. We breathe as one." And with that, she leads by example. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is how it is, and that's okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third part (after the second and before the third division line) is M-rated. The theme for this chapter is childbirth and children.

When Shara has her baby Base One brims with excitement.

This is a war, after all, and the Rebellion is used to losing lives, not gaining them. All anyone can talk about is how cute baby Poe is, and what they'd brought the new parents from far-flung missions. Clothes and food and trinkets and some questionable times that Kes most likely stuffed away in a locker or trade for some much-needed drinks.

Jyn would find all the chatter annoying if it wasn't genuinely adorable.

For once, everyone is happy.

Including Cassian.

She'd known he had a way with children but figured it was just an extension of his way with people. He can charm them into silence, convince them that whatever they're doing is the Most Important Thing In The Galaxy, and, when time allows it, has managed to reunite them with lost parents.

Jyn's done her fair share of charitable work, reuniting tookas with their young owners and saving children from certain demise, but she's never been able to calm a crying baby. She's wary of their tiny bodies, afraid that she'd drop them, and that cluelessness lends itself to every interaction.

She has no idea where Cassian learned to soothe babies.

She watches him now, grinning - for Force's sake, actually grinning - as he chats with Shara, bouncing little Poe in his arms as if he wasn't an entire living, delicate, creature hoisted above the ground. He's  _swaying,_ shavit, and Poe's round little eyes are fixed on Cassian's face, not his mother's, three of his tiny fingers slimy in his mouth.

"A-ah, we don't want that, chiquito." Cassian's voice is impossibly soft, like the daydream version of the gentle, cautious, teasing murmur only Jyn's privy to, the one she can feel on her skin even now. It's like that, his voice sweetened with adoration and careful endearments, testing the waters but filled with emotion. But that's something different, something they save for the bedcovers and words in the darkness, and this is open, spilling light as a sunrise revelation. 

She can hardly hear him from all the way on this side of the hangar, piecing the conversation together by movement and lips alone as she stacks containers. Poe complies almost immediately, face not bearing even the slightest wrinkle as Cassian taps his arm. The baby moves to grasp his fingers instead, and Cassian shifts his stance so he can bounce the index finger Poe grips with an entire saliva-coated fist. 

Poe giggles, and Jyn can hear it, feel it, sees the grin on Shara's face. She's not quite sure what expression she's wearing or what thoughts she's really thinking, only that the kyber pendant shifts under her shirt when she ducks to reach for another crate. She's warm, a little fuzzy, assumes it's whatever's filled the air since the baby's arrival and the fact she hasn't had lunch yet.

Jyn keeps her head down, striding up and down the hangar, and thinks nothing of it at all. 

* * *

 It's not till Leia has her child that Jyn finally understands.

She can't really tell what Ben's inherited from his parents, but even now, as she offers a smile to the wrinkly red newborn that only broadens as she sees his parents' faces, that he'll change the fate of the galaxy. With the war behind them, it gives the baby almost infinite possibilities to chase, and with Han and Leia as his parents, there won't be anything to stop him.

"This is what we fought so hard for," she tells Cassian later.

"Mhm," is his only response, and when she looks up, wondering if he's only half-listening, he's looking at her with all his concentration. At the meeting of their eyes he sighs.

"It's... you put it so simply. It's so... odd to think we... lived to see this... see it all come into fruition. See everyone chase the dreams we'd never even hope to have," he adds, voice dropping to a hush. "Now everyone can hope, hope freely and fully."

"Yeah," Jyn says, leaning back down against his shoulder, lips just grazing his neck as she repeats herself. "Yeah."

He smiles, and they turn their attention back to the flickering screen, some famous HoloNet show they'd missed while, well, saving the galaxy. Something simple, about hope and family, something so innocuous the Empire let it flow freely without censorship, but the woman behind the camera had joined the Rebellion some years later and Jyn has heard of the people she brought with her. 

Even in the most unassuming of things, good prevails. However that good may come to fruition, whatever sort of happiness it might bring. Whether you think you deserve it or not.

* * *

It's been long enough that this doesn't send a thrill through her the way it used to. Flames still course through her veins at his touch, but she can't christen them with the same name. Not a scorching inferno of finally resolved longing; touch-starved, aching skin learning to trust, to feel; restraints clattering to the floor as they learn each other, what they want; where boundaries are and when to push and stray away. 

This fire is shifted, not cooled. She hopes it will never cool and doubts it ever will, feeling tingling through every nerve all the way from her core to her toes. It's still all-encompassing.

Has nothing in common with the soft warmth of gentle kisses like early sunlight, of the times they go slow, breathing easily and fingertips moving idly, unhurried, unhassled. So many years, so many times have passed and she still wants, craves, has to pull him tighter to bring her heart back to life.

She pulls at Cassian and he sinks into her, in the darkness she now thinks of safety, the associations to abandonment and loneliness lost sometime after they shrouded each other's fears with themselves as blankets. Darkness is shared breath and security, at his side. The safe silence of hyperspace, sharing secrets quietly as they wait to hurtle into realspace. Bringing old fears into light, dusting them off in the security of the dark, and putting them away neatly labeled on mental shelves so they never budge and cause chaos again.

Now the darkness is her and Cassian, together.  Safety, warmth, his eyes and his hair. Dark, black, like space, like the caves that once scared her but all are now just a welcome part of who she is.

He shifts, tugging her closer, and she loses that train of thought. She groans, nails digging into bare, scarred, tan skin and he shudders.

Jyn's no longer afraid of telling him exactly what she wants. _More, more, more._  She goads him, encouraging, going hoarse. She's wrapped around him and it's never, never going to be enough. She no longer has to be careful, worry, ask, because she knows exactly where and how she can dig her heels into his back without disturbing the leftovers of a battle fought a lifetime ago.

He toys at her with his mouth, the same stubble that rubbed against the now-redness of her inner thigh to coax her first undoing of the night, now brushes her collarbone, digging in as his jaw dips and seeks. He stops for a moment, a short laugh bubbling because her kyber's cord caught between his teeth. She can focus her gaze on him long enough to watch him playfully toss it aside, it glittering even in the greyish night as it hits the pillow.

She grins. He too at her, face flush, and the blood in his cheeks still makes her insides sing sweetly because that's all because of  _her_. 

She threads her fingers through his hair, relaxing, the same hands she'd stroked him so gently and so wickedly with, working him into this state while dinner was still fresh in their mouths, now gently traces his jaw.

"Ready?" he murmurs against her bare chest, and she tightens against him. They reach for it together, moving and breathing as one. Jyn swears her lungs and body are going to give out, sweat pooling in the small spaces between her and the sheets and Cassian. He leans away for a better angle, her ankles hooking instinctively around him. She moans when they settle together, him wanting in her, she so close around him. 

"Jyn," he pants. Sometimes here he'll grin, teasing, but now he's close too, she can feel him, hard, desperate, wild, and their minds are unraveling, slowly but surely, and she wants to yank them free.

"Almost. You're almost-" Her voice cracks and she whimpers. Bordering on wailing, losing all inhibition. Once, she'd been afraid to show weakness. Never had she ever, not the first time; not when she'd bedded for her own safety, no matter how kindly those women treated her; and not even the first times with Cassian, not until she could trust him with each and all of her vulnerabilities. Now she can't be shy about it because they're so close, she's close, so close, and she sighs his name, hands tight around fabric, reaching for him, herself. 

She gives in and whines. "Just-"

She can never say the fire's dwindled, because after all this time Cassian now knows what to do, everything just falls seamlessly in place. Everything familiar they so willingly seek out time and time again. The thud of her heart, the mattress, the rustle of the sheets and their breathing. They'd agreed not to be gentle tonight, foreign stresses she's already forgotten begging for release. They'd gone achingly slowly at first, stirring up warmth from the depths, but Cassian makes up for it now, quick and precise and determined as he always is. Jyn moves with him, encouraging, wanting. Together, always.

He finds home; her ragged, heavy breathing catches around his name. He doesn't stop, only groans, trembling, and guides her. 

Everything that's coiled inside her breaks loose; her heart, her lungs, her limbs, her mind, everything falls free, spiraling, freefall; there's only the gasp, a final cry, for now; and she falls back on the mattress, raw and empty, only feeling the cold of Cassian's fingers around her hips and her heart fluttering wildly in his wake.

Feeling returns slowly and she buzzes everywhere in the delirious, delightful aftermath.

Cassian watches her closely, as he always does, because some habits won't die and he's always careful, cautious, caring. And when Jyn looks up at him she knows she'd do anything for him. It's not a thought she exclusively has in the After, no she's said it aloud once or twice on that day they swore  _in sickness and in health_ , and a few times before and after, even in mundane, messy moments because if there's one thing she's learned it is to love freely and show it. (Because they might not have tomorrow.)

She's still a little delirious but he's giving her that tiny smile of his, all warmth and adoration and an affection so intense her lungs burn.

_That blasted smile of his._

She'd do anything for him. Anything.

She returns the favour; rolls them over and stitches their souls together, not quite sure where she ends and he begins. She pushes him and he grabs at her like a lifeline, heavy and buried deep within her, wrapped around him and unwilling to move away, but she rocks him over the edge, feeling his wet relief as her own. Tonight he moans with her name on his lips and his eyes on hers. She'd cry silent tears because her heart swells too large for her chest (he's just so pretty and _shavit,_ those expressive eyes, with his guards down she can see right through to his heart). It's cheesy, like something of a HoloNet drama or something she might've thought as an teen picnicking in a field; but it's true: 

Jyn would do anything for Cassian.

They don't have to speak, not anymore; sometimes they'd murmur praise, sometimes chuckle soft, but tonight, for all its intensity, is soft and quiet. He can just peck her on the cheek and ease out what's left; all her sanity and hurt draining away with the strokes of his calloused fingers and the teasing lightness of his thumb.

Their hearts lie over each other, sealing the truth between them. She can feel him, a little sore in the way she likes it, her heart thrumming contently. Him faintly in her, and greedily, she wants him like this always. Happy.

_She'd do anything for him._

* * *

_She'd do anything for him._

_Anything?_

 Her face changes with the thought. Cassian, whose eyes hardly leave her on nights like these, frowns.

_Would you do anything for him?_

"You alright? Anything wrong-"

"No," she gasps at first, tongue seemingly heavy. She shakes her head. "I mean. Cassian. I..." 

There is a tidy little surgical scar on her right shoulder. She'd gotten it at seventeen, once she was granted an abundance of free time to pursue her own interests and desires, and among flying, cooking (which was more of a necessity than a desire), chemistry and trade, the first time one of them. A free, small, liberal planet, so she'd gotten the mark that would keep her safe for another ten years. The last time she'd been checked (she can still taste that rancid quekkafish) she still has a few years left. She's safe.

_From what?_

"Is this something else?" 

"Y-yes." 

They're sitting up against the headboard, Jyn leaning on Cassian's shoulder, one leg casually tossed over his. His hand draws circles on her knee as he waits for her thoughts to form. It's become a habit, between them, what with all their shared baggage that can be dragged up at any moment, but less frequent these days.

Jyn swallows, stomach turning. Shara and Leia, both had healthy pregnancies, and as two former war heroes (as much as she hated being called one) Jyn would have nothing to worry about. The best of the galaxy - and hadn't Cassian found out Jyn was born on Vallt, not Coruscant? If Lyra could deliver healthily in jail, then as her blood Jyn had nothing to worry about.

And, yet, a sinking feeling in her gut. Maybe not for her safety, but just.... 

Shara had spent most of her time with her family, Poe born in the same home she had. Green Squadron had insisted they could do without Shara for a few months just to ensure her wellbeing.

Leia, on the other hand, spent the entire stretch from Endor to Jakku without missing a beat, even with an army of concerned rebels hovering at her elbow, she pushed through battles and meetings with the strength of not one but two.

It allowed Jyn a little window into what that life might be like, and all it did was to reassure her she didn't want it. The aches, the swelling, the tiredness, the appetite (and lack of), the nausea, and the stretch of hours where Cassian pretended to be worrying over the peace treaty instead of admitting he was worrying whether the girl he'd watched grow up into probably the most powerful being in the galaxy would make it out of the delivery room in one, happy piece.

She did, of course, but still. 

Jyn does not. Want. 

(She'd seen the worst case scenario firsthand; was dragged into it by the cries and shouts for aid and she thought it was a shrapnel wound, not this, with an Imperial blockade shoving a wedge in all her plans and evidently another's, but there was still a lot of blood and screaming and though she rationally knows it won't happen to her, she still knows it can happen. Hours ticking by, and sure, the ending was fair because Jyn knew enough, and somewhere a child runs bearing the name _Kestrel,_ because of her, but still.)

But what if... Cassian does? 

It wouldn't even be a question of love. In this moment she understands what they see in the smallest, most fragile, wrinkled and red newborn, that the ever-increasing adoration she'd have for Cassian's child would ensure she would never, ever, be one to hurt them, even accidentally. Any child of his would have compassion come to them as naturally as their own heartbeat, and then to imagine one with Cassian's own plaintive brown eyes freed from the burdens of assassinations and horrors and rounded with childish innocence - it wouldn't be a question of love.

And the idea of such a child, _his,_ nurtured by her, in her, under her own protection for forty whole weeks, well, there was a pleasant ring to it. To feel a second heartbeat, to feel his blood mingle with hers. No wonder people wax poetic about it, no wonder Leia's eyes sparkled when she told them the news.

But there was also everything else, and the lack of control, of full and total and complete, irrevocable, agency - that is, she knows herself and perhaps even the slightest stirring, movement, kick, not of her own volition but someone else's touch grazing on her skin,  _inside,_  might throw her into a panic (because how many times had she been beaten until her whole body was a bruise and tossed in a heap into her Wobani cell? They could've done so much worse, but thank the stars they hadn't because what they had done left her scarred for life, literal and figurative) , a panic attack, and what would that mean?

For the three of them. For their sanities. 

She couldn't.

She can't say she  _can't_ because she could if she set her mind to it and he'd be  _with her all the way,_ but. He wasn't going to be the one to bear the burden, so to speak. No matter how much he wanted to, because he actually can't. 

She can, though.

She just doesn't have the strength.

(How cruel, the universe is. Sometimes people who want can't, and people who can don't want.) 

Something in her is lacking, something that her mother and Leia and Shara and everyone else all clearly have but she doesn't, and she doesn't know if it's called a flaw or a sin or a pity (or maybe, Cassian will say later, it's just a characteristic) but that's her alright. 

But.

What if he wants it? She's  _seen_ him look at Poe and Ben and the curly-haired Jedhan baby that Luke and Bodhi have been gazing longingly at for the past few months. ( _Samuel,_ that's his name, with eyes like the space and stars those pilots love so dearly, skin dark like the lands they left behind.) Cassian was the type, that, if he wanted something so badly it set his soul aflame, he'd immolate himself in silence if it meant Jyn's peace of mind.

So,  _she'd do anything for him_ , was an utter and complete lie.

"It isn't," Cassian murmurs, when the rush of jumbled words comes to a harried stop. "Oh, querida, I had no idea you thought of this." 

He's pulled her up against his shoulder now, and she's devoid of emotion, utterly empty, with her face pressed to his chest. No tears, no anger, just blunt acceptance.

"But do you want. It. A, urgh." Her voice is muffled. "Do, do you - d'youwantababy?"

She asks, and looks up at him, and in his gaze she can see a reflection of her own face and knows he's stripping away all the years and all the hurt and mixing his features in to paint a masterpiece. His expression so earnest because it's still so soon and every one of their inhibitions are broken, somewhere, lost in the night.

"There are other ways," is all he says.

Something in the back of her mind mumbles  _the ethics of human-carrier surrogacy_  because she's _been_ to the Outer Rim and knows the ugliness behind the truth, and another voice thinks the droid-bearing alternative is kinda cold and she tries her best to tell her brain to shut up, but the lines around Cassian's mouth tells her he wants to be there from the very first second, that exclamation of surprise and delight and sweet tears. For the swell to be familiar under his own palm so the infant greets his voice with familiarity.

Some part of her aches to hold him too, almost like now but deeper, but Jyn knows the truth. All these paths, all so very true and very valid, but Jyn realizes none of them are meant for her. She will not take them.

"And I'll be there beside you," Cassian says without a hint of disappointment.

"But you love kids, and you're so good with them, even the naughty ones, and-" she halts, suddenly shy. " _I like seeing you with them._ But. I don't think I can.. you know. A baby. What if, there's so much that can go  _wrong_ Cassian. And even if everything goes right, because yeah we're strong and smart and capable and between the two of us we know exactly what  _not_ to do, but I still feel so icky."  

"Then don't. We won't. It's final."

"Are you sure?" 

She's suddenly ready to throw everything out the window if he even thinks of changing his mind, and he locks gazes with her once again.

"You know how you said you felt like you're lying? Jyn, the fact you're willing to... that's more than enough proof. You'll do anything for me - and I for you - but we don't. Have to. It's our choice, _your_ choice." 

She gulps, suddenly embarrassed at her outburst. "Right." She gathers up her thoughts and tosses them away with a sigh, leaning back into his arms.

"I wish we didn't have to do this," she mutters.

She perks at his touch, him carding his fingers through her hair, but doesn't bother to move from where she's using him as a pillow.

"'s alright. Apparently Leia's kid threw a tantrum the other day and mucked up the whole house. I'd rather have this," he says, pressing a faint smooch to her forehead, "than that." 

Jyn's drifting, now, all the exhaustion catching up with her.

"Maybe someday," she mumbles sleepily, "I"ll talk t'Bodhi, 'n he'll help us find a kid. Once Sam's settled in. I still wanna see you raise one. Or two. Me with you." 

"Alright," Cassian whispers, still ruffling her hair. She barely catches the rest, his voice so quiet: "and if you change your mind and don't want that either, that's okay." 

She shakes her head, the tip of her nose drawing sluggish lines tangent to his scars.

"Only change'll be the number. Maybe one for each rogue lost." 

Cassian's hand stills, tightens, and the last thing she remembers is his ring cool against her scalp.

"Okay." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Samuel is indeed baby!Finn, Luke x Bodhi and Jedhan!Finn ftw.  
> Comments are always appreciated, even for anonymous authors!


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